It was a memory of music that did it – and most probably a session with Tapas Fleming, the creator of TAT: I was helped to let go of my old attachment to ghosts, as their helper and friend.

My mother has gone since 32 years. Her family and ancestors were also close to that field of existence. She died from ALS, a really nasty disease. It’s a progressive neurological disease that causes dysfunction of the nerves that control muscle movement. Over time, this leads to muscle weakness, gradually affecting how the body functions, and then you die.

I grew up close to a graveyard – beautiful, peaceful, I saw it as MY garden and played there, mostly alone, except for the ghosts, that I perceived as my friends and wrote storied about. In the session with Tapas, my connection to “having to” be someone who could assist them to go home, was healed – and later I realized, that since the intention of TAT is to include all our ancestors, it certainly included my mother’s lineage. I am convinced that this procedure was essential for what happened the day after, when I had a sharing session with my friend Kit.

In this session, while I was speaking I SAW that both my parents had shown me the light, metaphorically – the place inside that is eternal, all loving, never-changing, radiantly truthful, brimming with life and presence. I shared it with my father in 3 areas:

Listening to music, only the two of us – mostly Mozart. We were joined at that Paradise place, and there were no words there, but perfect oneness. If my mother entered the room, that Paradise was always interrupted: my father went into preaching mode.

He could not share that with both of us.

And – my mother could never share HER love of music with him, precisely because of this preaching tendency of his – but it happened when I came home from school that I overheard her playing the piano: Musette by Sibelius was her favorite. And mine. (NB: this guy plays it twice as fast as I loved to hear it – but still was the best I found on YouTube.)

And I sneaked up the stairs, and she heard me and stopped immediately, and I begged on my knees that she could play it once more – and some rare times, she consented – and we joined the Place of Light.

As I realized that both parents had shown me this Place, a torrent of tears broke and I sobbed with all my heart. Suddenly I SAW my mother as Spirit – healed and whole and innocent – and all the images of her as ice-cold and hard and rejecting fell away like old snow in April sun. I SAW her in front of me, as soul – on “the other side,” but in complete communication with me -just the same connection I shared when I joined with my mother’s ecstasy in music.

The torrent breaks through almost 70 years of denial – I have insisted of holding on to the image I held of her, the stories about her – and now it simply melted in front of this shared love, our union. The longing for her, the longing to join in LOVE broke through – I sob “my mamma, I long so much to join with you in THIS, and not all those stories from childhood!

There is no blame or anger at all in this longing – and for the first time, I see her Self, no projections now – just pure and whole.

I see her sitting in front of me, but still on the other side – she sits in profile, her head bowed, she is listening intensely with every cell to what I am telling her. At first she sits in shadow, but it lightens every second, and now I see her clearly. An inner earthquake shakes her violently, and still she is fully present within it, allowing these shakings to shake lose everything inside her role as woman and mother.MY mother in this particularly difficult lifetime, where she played the role of a mother who rejects her 4 year old daughter returning home after being group raped. I sense her gratitude for this release, her joy that all that is false is shaken loose. No sense of guilt and sin, just shedding centuries of false beliefs and victim patterns lodged in cells and DNA.” I shake for both of us” she says, I know that is true. Now the shaking is concentrated in Root and Hara. She burps and belches, does not throw up, but throws her arms in the air and swears and smiles – no devil taking her to hell because she swears – we look right at each other and delight in this freedom.

My father, who played the role of a Dr.Jekyll and Mr. Hyde – person, and who showed contempt of the “concept” of a God, now was seen as playing a role – and I was shown places where he had demonstrated Source consciousness.

In addition to the heavenly music-joining, let me share the chanterelle-paradise

All the times he took me deep into woods, long hikes away from the trail, being guided by his phenomenal knowing where the chanterelle-places were. I remember the energy of him sitting silently down and brushing his hand over moss, like a wizard – creating a large patch of shining yellow chanterelles – and then intensely enjoying my delight at this treasure.

Recapitulating these times today made me see that he had guided me to the Light Itself – and that he therefore HAD the light available to him. The atmosphere in these places brim with light and love for me – and deep joining.

Also when we rowed out to the open sea and fished – when the vast cloudless skies reflected in the mirror as dead calm sea, and same oneness embraced us in timeless silent space.

When I understood that they HAD shown me Home, both of them – I knew without a morsel of doubt that we all had played in a drama we had chosen to explore as souls – and our roles were perfect. Now I could SEE the Truth of them both, and the joy of recognition was indescribable.

The day after, my daughter the musician visited and played the Musette for me. And my mother was present, glowing with joy.

All traces of ‘ghost’ about her – vanished

*

8/3 More release

Today with Heather ,I found that my Mount of Venus really was the shield of a big mother Turtle – and that her shield stopped the insanity in my father’s energy during the sex to come into the womb. And so, my daughter did not have to swim in that womb energy for 9 months. And has not been subjected to this energy, as i was.

Seeing that – and honoring that defense-mechanism (= turtle shield-) started an avalanche of releases. I saw how all my defense-places in this body had created their patterns out of the need to keep all parts of me safe – and now, the time has come to be brave enough and ready – to release them all.

At the end of the session I was sitting with a profound cold in the lower body – and heard Blue – my voice for Christ – remind me: “It’s not about becoming warm – to have “succeeded” in this – it is about just noticing exactly where you are RIGHT NOW, and honoring this – trusting the process.”

Like this:

How wonderfully liberating it feel to explore stuff together – feelings, thoughts, sensations in the body. Compared to the kind of communication where A wants to convey that she has important knowledge that the poor B does not know about, but A is kindly willing to share her vast knowledge.

You may just have met such A’s…or been one

In exploration today with Kit I wanted to sit with the sensations in my body, of being subject to somebody who preaches. Images of violent anger came up: I wanted to hack B to pieces with 2 knives. 2. It got to be a rhythm to it to be effective. When I followed that imagery, suddenly I saw that I was hacking away at a ghost – and the name “Montsegur” came up.

Kit said: “You are hacking away at a ghost – there is nothing to get from it, except more pain.”

It hit me with full force: there is nothing of value to have from this fight, this insistence of being heard, of winning, of being the “right” part. Nothing except more pain.

I think about all the pages I have written to “explain” and to justify my view, believing it to be a valuable asset for the readers. Underneath that effort was the belief that this was a way to make me seen worthy.

Kit and I shared how “comforting” others with words and interventions may just encourage MORE complaining. The “comfort” feels so good, so a bit more going into MY story and MY pain will bring MORE relief…

But MY story – and worse, MY pain is exactly what keeps small me stuck in separation. It is not my pain. THE pain.

And all the times I used to comfort my daughter with wise advise – sigh – until she, when she was sixteen, told me to shut it – that it just let her know how little trust I had in her capability to find out things on her own.

OH that hurt. And OH what a thrill to see that she was right.

All I want is somebody who sits with me and lovingly LISTENS, being present.

I want to include Emmanuel’s letter in this post too:

”

“What to do about the nightmares – the times when it seems that darkness is to take your breath and life away? simply know this: you are living a recall, not a current event. You are projecting out into the void a memory – fraught with terror, and a child’s experience – but a memory in distortion. What to be done? Listen with respect to what the wound is telling you, but never, never again believe it. What is needed now, is what was needed then – a presence of a loving and tender adult who can compassionately embrace the terror and remain in truth.

Dark spirits are simply dark memories projected from past to present. They seem to take form and hold power for exactly as long as you are willing to give them life. You cannot kill them with hatred. You can transform them with love.””

The night was filled with scared expectations of how to respond to children/youth wanting treats. The mind went bananas and made the scary thoughts real – what should I do to protect myself from these expected fears and attacks?

Then I had a session with Kit. Oh beauty,oh truth, oh smiles. Without me having shared anything about my fear, she started sharing how she loved the Halloween – death as a costume for play, playing with the thought of death as threatening, while all it is is a difference in perception, a falling away of one form of life into another “invisible one”. She helped me see that I can see the scary costumes as the ego’s fear of dying.She talked about the warmth of the pumpkin color – the mother-like quality of its belly being lit from inside by a candle – the quality of autumn, the dead crackling leaves, a putting behind, a resting -an opportunity for the slow pleasures: reading. Drinking tea.

I recognized that she was showing me the healthy part of my mind – it was available for my choosing it. And I did.

So – for the first time I went and bought “treats” – jellybeans, mandarins, apples. I made 3 little bags.

Then I heard shrill shrieks and my heart leaped. I opened the window and leaned out to show them they were welcome – it was young mother with a little girl and a boy. The girl had a plain white sheet as ghost-costume. They laughed and enjoyed themselves. The mother pointed to me and the little girl ghost came running up to me – and the entrance light* went out. I heard myself saying ” Oh! You killed the light!” and knew in that moment that no, a fear in my mind had turned the light off. The little girl danced and laughed from joy and thanked me a thousand times, her mother thanked me too.

Then the little boy devil came all the way to me window. The light went on.:) He was all dressed in shiny black lacquer, with horns – very elaborate costume. Something inside of me relaxed – it had believed in the reality of ghosts for a moment, but this little devil – no.

He just stood there and stared at me for a long time, without saying anything.

“What about me?” he said – thinking I had no treats for him – but I did, and gave it to him.Again the mother and girl ghost called their loud “thank you so very very much!”

I think I thanked myself for giving up the old pattern of expecting attack – and also truly seeing the innocence and gratefulness behind the ghostly appearance.

the entrance light*…

Some of this blog’s readers may remember several posts where the entrance light played an important role in allowing me to find the light inside when fear was present – and the lamp always mirrored that decision. For those who might want to check out these teachings, just write “Entrance light” in the search field.

Healing Crisis:108 Ways to Turn Crises into Possibilities

When Fear Comes Home to Love

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